Rise Of The General's Forgotten Son

The rain was pouring heavily that night, drumming against the streets and rooftops with relentless force. A young man, his stylish hair plastered to his forehead, sprinted through the downpour, the rain soaking him to the bone.

His old clothes clung to him as he ran towards the gate of the big house across the street.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Reaching the large black gate, he knocked hard, the sound barely audible over the storm. He knocked again, louder this time, desperation creeping into his voice as he called out,

"Come and open the gate! The rain is beating me—hurry up!”

From the other side, a voice responded, gruff but amused, "Who wants to break the gate?"

The gate creaked open, and the security guard peered out. "Oh, it's you," he said, recognizing the drenched figure.

The young man didn’t wait for further conversation. He rushed through the gate, water splashing off him as he passed the guard. In the compound, under a white canopy, a sleek and elegant car—a lady’s car—was parked, its glossy surface untouched by the rain.

Ignoring everything around him, the young man hurried to the door of the house, throwing it open and stepping inside the warmth of the living hall. He stripped off his rain-soaked shirt, leaving him in just his singlet, and squeezed the water from the shirt into a nearby bucket. He then hung the shirt carefully before taking a deep, steady breath.

Without wasting time, he turned and began climbing the stairs. As he ascended, he heard the sound of loud music seeping through the door at the top.

"It's raining this late, and she's playing music this loud?" he muttered, shaking his head. Reaching the door, he knocked firmly.

"Sophia, please open," he called, his voice edged with impatience. But there was no response.

Frowning, he knocked again, repeating, "Sophia, open the door." Silence greeted him once more, and frustration crept into his expression.

Without thinking much, he twisted the doorknob, surprised to find it unlocked. The door clicked open easily, and he stepped inside.

Wow!”

The sight that greeted him made him freeze in place, his heart skipping a beat. His mind raced to process what he was seeing.

On the bed was a stunning lady, older than him but undeniably captivating. Wrapped in a towel, her exposed thighs were an alluring distraction. This was Sophia Bennett—his girlfriend.

"Elijah?" Sophia’s eyes widened in shock as she scrambled to pull the duvet over her body, trying to cover herself completely.

Elijah gulped, his throat suddenly dry. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he stammered. "I knocked, but you didn’t reply."

He quickly turned around, intent on leaving to give her space to dress, but something caught his eye, making him stop in his tracks.

He spun back around, and the sight before him made his blood run cold. From the bathroom, a man emerged, a towel wrapped around his waist, his bare chest still damp, water glistening on his skin. Elijah’s body shivered involuntarily, and he took a step back.

His mind struggled to catch up with the image before him. The man—he’d seen him before, dozens of times, sitting with Sophia, talking business. Elijah blinked, trying to push the thought away, but it lodged itself in his chest, heavy and suffocating. This wasn’t business.

"You?" Elijah’s eyes widened in disbelief as he looked back and forth between Sophia and the man. His breath quickened, his confusion growing with each passing second. His gaze locked on Sophia, then darted to the man before returning to her.

"S-Sophia?" Elijah stammered, his voice thick with hurt and shock. "Him? What the hell is going on here?"

He stepped forward, his heart pounding in his chest, waiting for an explanation.

Sophia held her head in her hands, looking utterly lost for words. She stood up, the duvet wrapped tightly around her. "Elijah, go out... I'll explain everything to you later," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Huh?" Elijah shook his head, his face a mix of disbelief and frustration. He took a step forward, his voice rising.

"What are you saying, Sophia? Go out? Explain later?" He pointed sharply at the man standing in the room. "Didn't you say Mr. Damian was your business partner every time I came back and found him here?"

His eyes narrowed as he turned to Damian, his voice laced with anger and confusion.

"Mr. Damian, you know I respect you. Didn’t you both tell me that you were business partners? So what the hell are you doing here like this? Explain!”

Sophia snapped, her voice breaking the tension in the room as she yelled, "I said go out, Elijah! I'll explain!"

Elijah's face twisted with a mixture of anger and hurt, his voice rising as he yelled back.

"You must think I'm a clown, right? Explain what the hell to me, Sophia!" His chest heaved, the betrayal cutting deep. "You expect me to walk out and wait while you sit here with him like this?”

Damian smirked, stepping closer, his posture relaxed.

"We had sex, Elijah. So many times. We had fun—yes, so what, kid?" He moved closer, his eyes narrowing as he stared Elijah down. "What are you going to do? Beat me?"

To him, Elijah was just a naïve kid, hopelessly in love with a woman out of his league.

“You’re so blind, Elijah,” he said, his tone dripping with condescension. “You really thought you stood a chance against me?”

Without warning, Damian shoved Elijah hard, causing him to stumble back. Elijah’s breath hitched as he steadied himself.

Elijah looked at Sophia, his eyes filled with disbelief and betrayal. Pain surged through his chest, spreading like wildfire, threatening to choke him. His heart felt heavy, as if it might shatter into pieces right there. How could she do this to him?

The woman he trusted, the woman he loved. His throat tightened, and for a moment, he felt like crying—tears of frustration and heartbreak welling up behind his eyes.

"How could you do this to me, Sophia?" he asked, his voice cracking with emotion. How many nights had he trusted Sophia’s explanation?

"What did I do wrong to be treated this way?”

Sophia's face twisted with disdain as she glared at Elijah. "Shut up, Elijah," she spat, her voice cold and cutting. "You disgust me so much."

She crossed her arms, her eyes hard as she continued. "You walk around acting like this innocent, perfect guy, but you're so... pathetic. Always chasing after me, always trying to please me, like some lovesick puppy. It’s suffocating! Do you even realize how weak you look?"

She shook her head, her words dripping with contempt. "You think just because you're nice, because you're *there*, that makes you worthy of me? It’s pathetic, Elijah. You’ve disgusted me for so long, and you were too blind to even notice.”